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A deeper death of a shallow part of myself December 9, 2010

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Civilization Anonymous, Cultural Janitorial Detail, Personal Journey.
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Not sure exactly where the title of this post is coming from, but I finished this amazing book which I will most likely blog on at frostwolfpines.  S. H. Buhner’s The Secret Teachings of Plants really rocked my world.  For me personally, this is a life-changing read.  Through this study of plants, I find this amazing gift that describes to me how I approach the writing of plays and why it’s been so difficult for me for the past 13 or so years while working in the vEmpire.

To be a playwright like the way I am a playwright I have to have a big wide open heart.  But it’s more than that.  The heart for a playwright is the seat of intelligence.  Really that is the way it is for all humans as the book makes explicitly clear.  The wisdom of the heart’s awarenesses and perceptions are our birthright.  But we are rewarded for the use (and abuse) of our intellects, our verbal/analytical skills.  That aspect of our human beings gives great support, but to supplant the heart with its “wisdom” is to err gravely and greatly.

I found myself having my breath caught up again and again as I read this, but today I read something that started a crying streak, and that was that as we show up to the work of meeting plants in the Mundus Imaginalis, as we show up to meet others with their diseases and conditions and to experience their diseased parts, we are ourselves changed and brought face to face with our shadows.

Now, I’m a really Plutonian sort of Pisces at root.  I understand that tsunami inside me that can rise up and sweep away all that’s in its path, and sometimes it comes up more to wash my own self-image into the abyss.  But Buhner said that one of the deaths we experience is that of our reductionist selves as we show up and allow Nature to shape our morality and our ability to be fresh as a child in our interactions with the more-than-human world.  And as I continue to go through the convalescence period of having left a corporate job and buried the corporate identity, as I acknowledge long-shunted away desires and longings after certain sorts of experiences with Nature and the use of my hands with natural products, I come to understand that I am slowly but methodically disassembling that part of me that has so relished and overutilized single-pointed focus.

This work inclines toward multi-pointed foci along many axes of dimensionality.  I listen now to pine trees, and pay attention to the vision of myself five years from now and make little discoveries.  Like that this fellow at 51 I see sitting by a river is sitting under poplar trees.  And that there is goldenrod nearby.  I hear the chirping of cardinals as well.  Hm.  It’s a sunny day in a delicious fall I can tell.  Fall, 2015 I guess. 

Yesterday, I felt a wave of despair crash over me.  I know that part of it has to do with the Holidays (and people should check out my “Happy Christmas Poem” on this blog for a good laugh and healthy ID with the sentiments of this longass work).  But I found myself really longing for death, and that I just wanted to end the suffering.  I now understand that the suffering I’m undergoing is that of bidding adieu to this aspect of myself, the vEmpire part of Richard. 

And to add to the feelings today I skimmed Carolyn Baker’s response to Rob Hopkins’ reaction to the critique of the Transition movement offered by one of the US’s leading lights of transition.  Wow, the world certainly swirls in surprise and awareness these days.  For me it’s another piquant and intriguing confirmation of the path I seek to discover for myself and for my peeps along the path of heart and soul through these times o’ tumult. 

I pray the way forward becomes clear, and that I have the strength, resiliency and buoyant cheer to be the attraction I seek.  Krom Kruach make it so! (krach mech ti bruach.)


Denver Discordance November 27, 2010

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Capital Region Notions, Cultural Janitorial Detail, Mystical, Personal Journey.
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Well, whew!  Back from Denver, and I have a lot of feelings about it.  The most salient aspect however is that I have truly and thoroughly “enalienized” myself to the place.

“Enalienized” here means that my resonance has altered such that Denver no longer feels “home” to me.  Appropriately enough it’s the trees that sort of tipped me off to this.  In my journey to Denver, there was the obligatory trip to the old homestead in what is now Centennial, but what was once unincorporated Littleton when I was upgrowing dabei.

The fun thing was that on the day I went, I met my new friends Jade and Shen Tat at the delicious Mercury Cafe.  On the waay there, I realized that I had dreamt about the route thereto.  I took Broadway north from Evans, and it turns into Lincoln near Exposition, and from Lincoln I turned onto 18th which twisty-turnied all around.  (The dream really started with the turn off Lincoln.)  En route to the Merc, I had a call to drive south after my brunch with them, which was delic ious in terms of both company and food and lasted almost 3 hours!

Driving south, I went first to Spiritwise, and bought a few objects including a functional sculpture of a jawbone with a bat on it for dispelling that which no longer serves me, a bat ring and a wolf sculpture.

I drove further South still, for I felt I needed to go a certain route to the old homestead.  I didn’t realize it at the time but I was on a rigte of initiation of some sort, for I made a “wrong” turn onto Eudora Street off Dry Creek and found myself at my next destination, the place I meant to go all along.

Medema Park.

This little parklet was the closest one to my Littleon abode from 1976 to 1982.  And there was a tree here that was calling to me.  Emburon, by name.  A pine tree of course, who was to give me a bit of instruction.  I made a 2nd pilgrimage later to Emburon, bearing an offering of chocolate.  (E would have preferred Ghirardelli, but had to setle for Lindt, alas.)  I’m now charged with discovering “tree speed.”  Which is simultaneously slow and fast, needless to say.  Slow in the “reality” of meatspace, but circulation wise, lightning quick.

Anyway, after my first encounter with Emburon, I realized I had contracted food poisoning somewhere.  Funny, but now that I’m writing this, I wonder if there wasn’t another awareness that had inserted itself into me through my interaction with the tree that put me in touch with the discordance underlying.  Anyway, I spent that night doubled over in stomach pain.  And my days thereafter were a bit dissonant.

Upon arrival dissonance was thematic however.  I took the wrong turn off of Tower Road and ended up on 104th Ave., nearer the older Northglenn homestead (near 120th and N. Washington, actually).  I took another twisty-turny journey (ah, a theme!), that took me to the general area where my Daddles used to work when I upgrew, and from where he was cast out in the first wave of ditching longtime employees nearing full pension.  Ah, Ronald Reagan farts farts farts!

From that Sunday-Monday onwards, my trip took on a much more bittersweet hue.  It always was going to be thus, seeing as the last time I was in Denver, I was part of a couple, and now I am the single guy again.  I’m now also a published author, and I sold 4 of my Doom Sonnets for After the vEmpire. So again, the bittersweet and the twisty-turny.  A rather blackthorn experience this trip, I guess.  And a loneliness started to insinuate itself into the Work of this God.  And the trees were there to gently support this awareness.

On Thanksgiving Day, I was with my sister and her family, and there was a moment in the afternoon, when I was by myself in the kitchen washing some pot or other, and that loneliness made his embarke’d experience known.  I have to say it was a total surprise, and a familiar feeling I’ve not experienced in a LONG time.  And that was when the awareness started to settle in as well, that Denver was not home.

And another awareness.  That I am going to have to have a lot of courage going forward with the new aspect of my Work as Professional Playwright-Producer.  I have a title for my new company–“Cultural Janitorial Detail.”  To accord with the Morell aspect of my being.  To put all of it together, actually.  Also fun–CJD also stands for Creuzfeld-Jakob Disease.  CJD is the medical acronym that denotes “Mad Cow Disease.”  CJD to transform the cultural CJD that afflicts us all.

Even though my sensibility is decidedly “Denver,” and those who live there know exactly of what I speak, it doesn’t agree with me.  As I sit here writing this blog entry, and feeling it’s woefully incomplete, I feel a vague sense of nausea as if the food poisoning of 6 days ago is always going to be associated with Denver going forward.  Lovely.  I’m back in the Hudson-Mohawk region, and I have some plans for the day now.  Today is the first day I’ve been able to incorporate Emburon’s task in my practice, which has pointed to certain activities.  (This was not among them, alas.  But still, it was something I felt compelled to do.)

I look forward to how my own Big Eden will manifest in this delicious and “deicious” (thank you o goddess of typos!) place.  Unfold ye sacred heaven on earth, rightcheer in Adirondack land.

Selection of details November 4, 2010

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Personal Journey.
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Today I was musing on some of this Law of Attraction concept that I’ve been working with of late, and it struck me how a lot of this attention to our thoughts is like the writing of a play. 

When I sit down to write a play, I first start to get to know the world that is being created.  Right now I’m working on a couple of pieces where I need to understand more about the various worlds in creation.  One is set in a future time, post-civilizational (some would say “post-apocalyptic”, but after having reached abstinence with sugar and flour, my whole world is in the aftermath of revelation anyway).  There are fairies and authority figures and heroes, etc.  But I think the story lives in something that is not heroic but rather wise, and in this world the heroic seems to be opposed to wisdom.  In another play I’m writing, it’s a more contemporary milieu but one of breakdowns that are constantly happening.  Relationships at the center of the work are breaking down, and as I write this it occurs to me that break-downs of all sorts need to be popping up throughout the play.

The thing is I select the details for the work.  With some plays it’s a quick process, but like with My Littleton Play, that process was 25 years in the making, and I had to go through 2 page one rewrites on the project before I selected the correct mode of organization.

Likewise with the world I wish to inhabit.  In prepaving my future existence, I need to select details of what I want for that time 5 years from now today.  So I focus on the fact I like to be in the forest.  I start to visualize myself in the forest today, or tomorrow.  I am planning on heading up to Crandall Park again tomorrow–if my health and the weather cooperate.  I also hope to be able to visit my favorite tree today in Riverfront Park and bring her an offering of carrots.  The future me 5 years from now starts to send messages back to me, and I see a fellow who is the center of command of some organization.  It appears to be me–I feel intimate with the fellow, though for some reason the man is outside of myself.  Perhaps that is an emblem for personal change, that I need to align myself with his energy that he/I become the future me.  I seem to be involved with a forest enterprise of some sort.  The first thing that comes to mind is a paper or wood mill of some sort, but I don’t think that’s going to be it.  Something else.  (My Dad worked at a packaging company for 25 years or so, so I know it can’t be that.)

Anyway, I’m choosing to attract this life of the forest, just as I choose what plants will go in a garden, what characters will populate a play, etc.  John Patrick Shanley, in his introduction to “the dreamer examines his pillow” I belive (if not that, then Savage in Limbo), said “writing is acting is directing is living your life.”  It’s very true, because each one of those does involve the focus on details, and of creating the life that I lead. 

I choose today to live deliberately.  I create the forest guy, the naked shaman, the wise and playful Bard of stage and poetry.  The healer.  These all start to step forward as the king, warrior, lover and mage take part in the manifestation of a life beyond my wildest dreams…

Struggle with Rest Part II October 30, 2010

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Capital Region Notions, Mystical, Personal Journey.
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Well, I do hope this does not become a series, but I do need to address it, dammit.  There seems to be a desire inside me to stay sick for a while, and I can say for sure it arises from my desire to do do do.  It is difficult sometimes to stop stop stop.  I watch my cats, and think of Eckhart Tolle’s observations at how felines are all zen masters by default.  Samson & Cerridwen seem to know how to just relax, to just be.  And I do have my moments, but they are accidental. 

Though I suppose purposeful rest seems a bit of an oxymoron, I guess that’s what I think I desire right this minute.  I have good days and bad days, but I also have an informal assignment to sit by my willow tree teacher every day for 2 weeks, and that makes things a tad difficult seeing as how the tree is across the river in an area of town that would require paid parking were I to actually park close enough to just walk over the bridge.  I park a bit further away–though I notice that with each passing day during the week, the places got closer and closer.  On the weekend it doesn’t matter, and I parked just around the corner from the walkway. Still, I park then I walk, then I cut across the bridge and walk “through my kingdom” (smiley face with beaming grin!) and attend to her thoughts and teachings and observations.

Even in the context of this attempted rest, I ams eeing that intentions are arising for my near future, and I have a couple of plans of action.  I have begun to take an herbalism class, for example.  I trust that I shall be blogging about my relationships with various plant allies in the course of things.  I seem to have a general direction for 5 years out, with this vision of living in a forest community to the north of here.  North of Glens Falls even.  I see myself as an active and integral part of this settlement, engaged in what I don’t yet know.  I seem to have some leadership/elder roles though.  A go-to guy in this place.  I see that my writing projects continue and this next year start to bear fruit.  Reading about Neptune entering Pisces, I further understand that this could be “my year!” as it were.  Cross your fingers and toes folks.  It would be nice for the 25 years to make an overnight success would befall me in the year before the Mayan Calendar comes to a comma.  Or whatever it is supposed to be.

More to be revealed btw, with the Great Psychic Comb-Out on Cerridwen’s Mountain.  I have mroe where that came from!

Changing Relationships with the Cities October 27, 2010

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Capital Region Notions, Civilization Anonymous, Cultural Janitorial Detail, Mystical, Personal Journey.
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Since I moved now to Rensselaer, I’ve become aware that my relationships with both Albany and Troy have shifted quite a bit. Because I worked downtown and have since ankled the soul-suck job, I have an understandable hesitancy about heading down that way again.  I have an assignment from my favorite Willow Goddess to visit every day for an hour a day for 2 weeks, to begin when I was ready.  I started that yesterday, and on the way to the park, I found I wanted to avoid being seen by anyone from any of my old jobs.  It’s funny, but I was on Pearl Street for a couple of minutes last week, and I walked past someone I used to work with, and it was like she didn’t recognize me.  I was sort of glad about that, and hopeful even.

The City of Albany is a bigger place than just that State-Pearl-Broadway corridor.  That is the epicenter of the place, but I find it’s occluded by all the bidness tealings that are going on down there.  All of that excess negative energy gets in the way of hearing the City’s vibrant soul.  It’s been just all that I can do to check in with Aurora Petra Majesta, and every once in awhile, Cappy at the top of the hill to say “Hey deah!”  I found myself looking at the city wistfully as I drove in on Route 32 and realizing that I no longer was in the same place.

Likewise with Troy, and I feel an odd sense that I was really never meant to put down roots there.  That while I was meant to live there for a time, that I wasn’t meant to stay there and that I can see this in retrospect is interesting to me because I really didn’t understand that in the time in lived in Little Italy.  I acted as if I was supposed to be there, but in the intervening time since the Breakup, it’s become more and more apparent that Troy served its catalyzing purpose of parting what wasn’t resonant to begin with.

The metallic nature of Troy worked to slice the relationship in twain, and to leave the two of us as single again.  That’s just the way of it.  Now I’ve left the place and while I sort of miss it, I do love this new place I’ve moved to.  In fact, though I sense I’m heading ultimately into a forest community of some sort, I wonder if there’s a way I’ll be able to hold onto this location.  It’s a piece of the puzzle to ponder.

I think that as life continues on, my relationship with Albany will deepen in profound ways.  I have this vision of myself way in the future as an Elder Shaman, walking down Broadway amidst the ruins of the former capital of the Empire State.  I sense that the notion of the U.S.A. is a quaint memory of times gone by, held in reverence mixed with spite.  That the place now is in a different relationship with its denizens, and I’m taking a nostalgic stroll along the pathway I walked each day for a time to attend to one of my soul-sucks.  I keep walking up B’way and turn up Livingston and head as if up to Albany Memorial because I’m visiting a family that needs my Elder/shaman aid.  I wear a cape, no shirt, a sarong, sandals.  It’s a bright and cold December day, no snow on the ground and none expected.  I seem to be all right with the bluster and reveling in the sun.  It’s an image I’ve long had, and I don’t know where it fits in, how it fits in with the future I’m imagining for myself.  But I know there’s an essential truth in it, and that Albany is in my blood.

Nine of Wands October 17, 2010

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Capital Region Notions, Civilization Anonymous, Cultural Janitorial Detail, Personal Journey.
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In Stevee Postman’s Cosmic Tribe tarot deck, the 9 of wands is labeled “Community.”  When I first moved up to the Albany-Troy area, I associated this card with the yearning for a place where I feel like “they’ve got my back, and I’ve got others’ backs as well.”  I found it would come up every once in a while with readings involving the first company I worked with here, and sometimes I feel an odd nostalgia for that place.  Not that I wish to go back, but I did feel that there was some sort of nascent bonding there that had some pop.

More often than not, it refers to my dream these days.  When I do tarot readings for myself, I use a modified Celtic Cross.  I let the first card be the significator, and then “this covers me,” “this crosses me,” etc.  I also pay attention to the bottom card, and I use a relatively recent technique I learned at a witch camp where I add all the value cards together and reduce it to a number between 1 and 22 to get a Major Arcana card that links all the cards together.  The bottom card literally shows what is at bottom of the situation, oftentimes the bottom line.

Today, I visited Crandall Park in Glens Falls, New York, and the pine trees there invited me to take a reading for their insights into my situation.  The end result is the Heterosexual lovers card (Lesbian lovers was also in the reading, but in the leaving influence position), and on the bottom?  Yep.  9 of wands. 

It is stressed in literature about establishing community how difficult it is to form these elusive creatures of commonality.  One doesn’t go in with a recipe.  Instant community?  That’s like powdered water.  What do you add to it?

Dmitry Orlov and others have pointed out that community is oftentimes created out of necessity and circumstance.  Like in New Orleans during Katrina.  Communities and tribes basically formed spontaneously as the crisis unfolded, and the unlikeliest of people ended up bonding–just like in disaster movies!  I feel like we’re all collectively living on the set of a reality disaster series, but it’s like most people are unaware of the scenario. 

I do think that is changing, and my experiences over the past 2 months have encouraged me to develop a wider sense of hope and optimism.  Today, I choose to focus my energies on the most wonderful outcomes.  And I’ve alluded to this in the past on this blog, that I envision a place where I can walk out of my home after toweling off from a fresh shower, without any side trip to the bedroom “to get dressed.”  That the sky is enough of a suit for my glorious powerful self and it is to be shared and celebrated.  I have even gone so far in my visions to see myself wearing workboots (only!) and climbing up a ladder to the top of a house being built, to construct the roof. 

Those pine trees seem to have been saying to me, yes, yes.  The choices are coming and you can make them.  Some choices will be ones you would make anyway, and others may be a bit awkward, but it’s there.  The linking card (the Wheel) says to me that the magic of the times calls for this Work, these Powers to be unleashed.

And I’ve been doing it and celebrating my blessings all along the way.


Off to another Workshop October 1, 2010

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Civilization Anonymous, humor, Personal Journey.
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This time it’s the Man/Kind Project’s New Warrior Training.  Again at Easton Mountain.  I’m eager to get started on grooming the fierceness of this God.

“Power… Power will make me sleep.”  A line from My Very Worst Play Ever Or You Have to Break a Few Chekhovs to Make a Hamlette.  (By yours truly.  A truly BAAAAAAAAAAD script.  But with male nudity!)

Something about Power September 29, 2010

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Mystical, Personal Journey.
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Read on doomers.us:

“Power whispers, it has no need to shout.”

When I’ve been in my powerful moments, it comes from a place of just knowing.  Acceptance, allowance, vulnerability–these are power words.  Power itself is something that we in our fear-based/force-fed culture cannot really grasp.  We know it sometimes when we feel it, but more often than not there’s a result we wish to achieve, there are people who need to be enlisted to make that happen, and they want to know what’s in it for them.  In my power, I can bring things together.  There have been quite a few times of late when I’ve not been in my power, when I’ve been in a place of brittleness and rigidity.  I needed to be cracked open, and the husk left to slough off.  That’s since happened, and I’m in touch with a new ferocity.

I don’t need to shout about it.  In fact, the quieter I am the better.  I can get things done unobtrusive, projecting mashed potatoes rather than calling attention to myself and being the thick juicy steak or the delicious butternut squash-apple concoction for dessert.

Probably my hardest year ever September 27, 2010

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Capital Region Notions, Personal Journey, Uncategorized.
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This whole process dates way way back.  Much of what I thought I was, who I thought I am, is being stripped away.  It’s been building for a really long time, and now I’m in a surrender place.  And I’m not alone, but I’m alone.  Need to go through this by myself, because it’s about taking the fragile butterfly who’s emerged from the chrysalis and give myself the space that’s necessary to let the wings harden and to keep the heart and the belly soft. 

I’ve cleared the deck, as far as that goes.  Moved to a new place.  And now I’ve cleared my schedule of that last little bit of cocoon irritation called “the job.”  As of the Libra New Moon, I will have all the time I need for this healing/convalescence/exploration of this New Man emergent.

It’s been the big four: Loss of parent, loss of relationship, moving house and now, the voluntary separation from my place of woyklez.  The post-cocoon lodge has been prepared.  As of October 7, I will have shaken the last little bit of cocoon husk from my feet, and freed myself for come what may.  My feelings right now are all topsy-turvy.  It’s been a rough couple of months here, but really it’s been a rough time for longer than that. 

Because I’ve long known that I have needed to do this very thing, and to let the processes of change take over and trust that it’s all going to be divinely appointed.  It is anyway, and I’ve been telling people I need to take a leap of faith, which is better than a leap off a building isn’t it?  Or a leap of a bridge. 

I’ve taken risks like this before and there have been scary moments, but I’ve been able to get through them with just a little bit of worry at the end.  This one may be more open-ended, I don’t know.  I guess I will be creating another blog soon, and this one will more than likely take up the original themes of getting to know the neighborhoods and the cities, etc.  I have a couple of projects for this lined up.  And the new blog–well, I might call it Transparent Butterfly’s Hideaway.  Or something like that.  A short-term blog I would imagine, but one packed with intensity needless to say.  And more than likely starting on that New Moon.

Magick is afoot with this change of events–I gave notice on the Equinox.  We’ll see now where this takes me.  What is the Work, Joy, Pleasure & Radiance of this God indeed?

Moved house September 23, 2010

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Capital Region Notions, Mystical, Personal Journey.
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Part of my big news that I alluded to earlier is probably to be inferred from this message, but I recently moved house.  The Troy apartment I lived in (and I do miss it a bit) is in a building with a noncommittal house spirit.  S/he is called “Gunder”, and s/he can shapeshift as a man herself, or a woman himself.  Sometimes Gunder would appear to me as a starry female, and other times as a James Lipton-esque sort of fellow.  (Odd, but there you have it.)  When I asked Gunder as to what my plans should be, the attitude was “Meh. Feh.”  Not exactly welcoming.

So about a month ago I was in Thacher Park dealing with some fallout feelings over the tectonic shifting in my life-plan, and Hekate, Cerridwen, Vesta and Persephone showed up to counsel me.  Vesta in particular took charge of my finding the house, telling me in fact that it had all been laid out for me.  I would be paying $X amount, I would be able to garden and keep my kitties, and I would be in Rensselaer near the water.  I inferred the last part, and I sort of saw a blueprint of something that seemed familiar to me. 

A little over 2 weeks ago, I surfed Craigslist and found this ad.  I decided only to look around in Rensselaer for now.  I don’t have much of a sense of the city itself as yet.  But there are some charms to it that are quite unassuming and quietly beautiful.   I came across the ad and I called the number, and I was surprised to hear the answering voice say “Hilton Center for the Arts.”  It turns out the organization also has a property management arm, and I just … well, sputter sputter, “I think I would like to come and see it.”

And it’s just exactly as Vesta said it would be.  It’s not perfect–there’s like no closet space.  I have organized the space so that my dressing area and office are in one place and my bedroom and altar in another.  My living room is jam-packed with all the stuff that I have accumulated in my almost 30 years since having left my childhood home.  But the thing is, my new home, which was once an icehouse on the Hudson (!), has a spirit as well.

I’ve decided to spell her name Teryka’.  The apostrophe on the end would be an accent–if I knew how to apply one in WordPress that is.  Pronounced (Tare-ee-KAH, not Tuh-REE-kuh)  Like terra cotta without the last syllable.  She’s a mannish woman who’s kind of flummoxed and tickled by me.  That’s all to the good.  There”s a humble and homespun element to her, and I will definitely groove to that.

I shall be spending time in Teryka’, but also I shall be spending lots more time in nature.  Circumstances shift and change week to week.  I will have more in a bit.  But there are others involved, alas.  That’s how life’s messiness can be sometimes…